Adultery Erotic Short and Long Stories by smitanair_999

[Ramesh_Rocky]

>> DIRTY AMBER <<

(5) Tropical Heat

There was a darker side to things, as there always is. Suresh had no way of knowing that his wife, Sayali had a secret lover, one whom no one knew of, not even her masters at the sex company, Hedon & Venery. Suresh revelled in the candour of their marriage -- he believed she had no secrets from him, as he certainly had none from her. He knew that she was a full-time whore at Hedon & Venery, that she worked at a brothel called The Apistia, that she did live sex-shows and performed in films and for steamy pornographic magazines.

She fucked the servants in the house, and any of their friends she fancied. They had group orgies with close friends and frequent wife-swapping parties. At dinner parties for his business associates, she put on sex-shows with the servants or hired gigolos, and allowed the guests to fuck her. With very important businessmen, she went one-on-one, spending entire nights and, sometimes, long weekends with them.

The results were invariably profitable, and Sayali never complained. In graphic detail, she recounted the sex. When she could, she had it all video taped. Suresh had hours of footage of his wife as a sex-slave, servicing businessmen, their friends, hirelings, complete strangers.

Suresh, too, had his share of lovers, when time permitted : maids, whore, call-girls, Sayali's friends, his friends' wives – Suresh enjoyed fucking them and he, too, recounted his affairs for Sayali. With such transparency in their marriage, Suresh had no reason to suspect his wife. The question of infidelity did not arise -- both were constantly and openly unfaithful.

But there were days when Sayali didn't go to work. Instead, she left the house as usual, drove into town, stopped en route to call The Apistia to say she would not be in that day, parked her car in a lot and took a taxi to a small, quiet lane by the docks.

Alighting from the taxi, she waited till it turned the corner and was out of sight. Then she walked quickly down the lane and turned into a narrow blind alley that ran perpendicular to the lane. At the end of the alley stood an old three-storied block of flats.

It was a run-down wooden structure, the timber rotten and decaying in many parts, some windows boarded, others without shutters, still others broken and open like gaping wounds. There was no door to the building, and Sayali entered and climbed three flights of long, broad, shallow wooden steps, clutching the curved wooden bannister, worn smooth by countless hands. Most of the flats were empty. One or two had signs of desultory life, an occasional line of washing or a tinny radio squeaking and scratching.

Sayali climbed to the top floor and turned down the corridor to the flat at the rear of the house. Using a key taken from her small handbag, she let herself into the flat.

In comparison to the rest of the building, the flat was surprisingly well-kept. The walls were neatly plastered and painted a soft white. The door opened into a large, simply furnished room with a high, sloping ceiling. Tall windows stretched along the length of the far wall. The room overlooked the harbour and the busy dockyard, beyond several rows of red tiled roofs. An open door at one end of the room led into an airy and clean kitchen, fitted with simple and basic appliances – a small refrigerator, a two-ring gas stove, a steel sink and a granite worktop. Another door set half-way down the side wall was open and showed a bedroom with a bathroom ensuite.

The living room in which Sayali stood held scattered, minimal furniture, mostly of inexpensive wood or white-painted cane – two deep armchairs, a sofa, a small glass-topped coffee table, a dining table with four chairs. The walls were bare. A rug on the floor added colour. The sofa and chairs were upholstered with brightly patterned fabric, and held plump cushions.

Sayali closed the door behind her. A black man emerged from the bedroom. He was tall and very handsome, with a superb physique. He wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. He had thick black hair, swept back off his forehead. His nose was long and straight and slightly curved; the lips were slim and wide. His jaw was strong and well-defined, sexily square. His dark eyes were deep-set.

He was clean-shaven. His body was stunning: a muscular neck stretched to broad shoulders and led to a wide, deeply cleaved chest. His torso was hairless and smooth, his armpits were shaved clean. His nipples were small and dark and sharp, pulled wide and low on either side of the mighty W of his chest that swept from armpit to armpit. His back was smooth and strong, curved inward to the spine, and snaking down to his taut buttocks. His belly was rock-hard, ridged with slabs of musculature. He was barefoot, and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. He stopped in the doorway, with one arm raised, hand resting on the doorjamb and looked at Sayali impassively.

Sayali paused, studying him, her eyes raking his body. Her face flushed with excitement. Her eyes glittered and her nostrils flared and her lips parted. Dropping her purse on the floor, she moved towards the man, kicking off her sandals. He waited silently, carved out of a stone, an erotic bas-relief.

Sayali was clad in a simple *churidar* and *kurta*. Her face was a perfect oval, tapering to a fine chin. Her eyes were elongated, almond-shaped, lined with *kajal* She had high cheekbones and a fine, straight nose. Her mouth was small, but her lips were full and luscious. She had white, even teeth. Her hair was thick and lustrous, now tied in a plait that reached her buttocks.

Her dusky skin was smooth and clear and soft, the colour and texture of honey. A long, elegant neck led smoothly to full, high, ripe breasts, superbly formed and heavy, like succulent mangoes. Her belly was firm and flat, her waist narrow and her hips flared just so, to neatly curved buttocks and slender, long, elegant legs. Her arms were smoothly turned, and her hands and feet were shapely.

She wore a long *mangalsutra* around her neck, a *bindi*, gold earrings, gold finger-rings, silver anklets and toe-rings. She dropped her *dupatta* as she approached the man, and unbuttoned her *kurta*. Beneath, she was naked.